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#dido
Shantaigh siad a bheith Chomth grámhar is Méidé agus a hIonsáin Shantaigh siad a bheith chomth cáilúla is Didió agus Aeinéas. Chomth torthúil is Iocasta agus Éideapús Bhog siad le chéile Ach ansin tháinig na troideanna Agus bhi siad chomth trodach is Alastair agus a namhaid Dáirias. Scar siad. Agus nil aon chór thart. Bhuel, sin é an scéal, nach ea?
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May 11, 2015
May 11, 2015 at 2:23 PM UTC
the-cripple
Léann Clasaiceach
Shantaigh siad a bheith Chomth grámhar is Méidé agus a hIonsáin Shantaigh siad a bheith chomth cáilúla is Didió agus Aeinéas. Chomth torthúil is Iocasta agus Éideapús Bhog siad le chéile Ach ansin tháinig na troideanna Agus bhi siad chomth trodach is Alastair agus a namhaid Dáirias. Scar siad. Agus nil aon chór thart. Bhuel, sin é an scéal, nach ea?
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did you, even now, hope to shut your eyes to so huge a crime, my treacherous one, to think you could stilly withdraw from my kingdom? did our love not once hold you? our ardent vows? or even I, Dido, preparing to succumb barbaric death? how could you, callous you!, take wing to prepare your fleet in winter —i’m sure to run aground— when Boreas thrashes against the heavens? but, if you weren’t pursuing unfamiliar soil or incited to father a distant nation, if ancient Ilium sturdily grimed through the war, would you keep piercing the wave-washed oceans in your armada? why do you elude me; is it because i have acceded irreality? am i worthless, now?—i implore you! by these tears, and your troth, by our wedding vows, and this oath before ***** we began: if i deserve anything good from you, or if you think, i was good enough for you; pity this household decaying before us! it was once yours, too. and if my prayers are still yours, gut them from my mind! for now the Libyans and Numidians hate me! dear Tyre is virulent! as my honour and once-righteous stature has vanished, just as i was about to touch my constellated infamy. for what destiny, my foreign one, do you set me aside; ever-knowing my imminent death? seeing that only your name endures from this union, why do i bother to keep living? am i waiting for my brother, Pygmalion, to destroy my Carthage’s walls, or a Gætulian Iarbus to make me his concubine? if only you gave me a son, a little Æneas to play in my courts, a boy to remind me of you; only then, perhaps, would i not be so utterly violated, and consumed.
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Nov 7, 2014
Nov 7, 2014 at 1:06 PM UTC
palladia
quis fallere possit amantem?
did you, even now, hope to shut your eyes to so huge a crime, my treacherous one, to think you could stilly withdraw from my kingdom? did our love not once hold you? our ardent vows? or even I, Dido, preparing to succumb barbaric death? how could you, callous you!, take wing to prepare your fleet in winter —i’m sure to run aground— when Boreas thrashes against the heavens? but, if you weren’t pursuing unfamiliar soil or incited to father a distant nation, if ancient Ilium sturdily grimed through the war, would you keep piercing the wave-washed oceans in your armada? why do you elude me; is it because i have acceded irreality? am i worthless, now?—i implore you! by these tears, and your troth, by our wedding vows, and this oath before ***** we began: if i deserve anything good from you, or if you think, i was good enough for you; pity this household decaying before us! it was once yours, too. and if my prayers are still yours, gut them from my mind! for now the Libyans and Numidians hate me! dear Tyre is virulent! as my honour and once-righteous stature has vanished, just as i was about to touch my constellated infamy. for what destiny, my foreign one, do you set me aside; ever-knowing my imminent death? seeing that only your name endures from this union, why do i bother to keep living? am i waiting for my brother, Pygmalion, to destroy my Carthage’s walls, or a Gætulian Iarbus to make me his concubine? if only you gave me a son, a little Æneas to play in my courts, a boy to remind me of you; only then, perhaps, would i not be so utterly violated, and consumed.
Continue reading...
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